


the first and the last

by ninemoons42



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Kiss, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Fanfiction, Kissing and Feels, Last Kiss, Missing Makeouts, Missing Scene, Rebelcaptain - Freeform, angst and kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9542804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: Nothing like the Force itself telling you that time is running out, to make you do something you have never done before and never will do again: and so Jyn kisses Cassian, for the first and last time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofhobbitsandwomen (litvirg)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litvirg/gifts), [crystalkei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkei/gifts), [ladyannabethstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyannabethstark/gifts).



> This was inspired by the "Missing Makeouts" prompt that I found on Tumblr, courtesy of some kickass R1 writers.
> 
> Written partly to "Everything is Never Quite Enough" by Wasis Diop, which for all its angsty lyrics is also damn good makeout music.

She stared at Krennic as though she were looking at mud on her boots. Still breathing. She would have liked to –- throw him off the tower. Put a bolt through the back of his head. Drive the little blade in her pocket into his chest, right into his heart –- that sounded like a good idea, so she reached into her pocket. Let her hand close around the vibroblade. She had never used it before. She must have been saving it for just this occasion –- so she could kill this Krennic, this Imperial bastard –- 

And just as she was going to her knees there was a hand catching her. Arresting her in her fall. 

Oh, _kriff_.

Cassian Andor looked like nothing more or less than agony made flesh: there were too many deep lines around his mouth, in the corners of his eyes. Lines that pulled him down. Blood on his cheeks and blood at his temples.

“How are you even still standing,” Jyn asked, and she pushed herself to stand. Pushed herself to prop him up. He was heavier than she was, and taller, and she was weak from the lack of food and water and rest, weak from the immense fatigue that was burning down her nerves, and –- there were still things to be done, weren’t there? And yet this was more important: to wedge herself into Cassian’s side, and make sure that he could stand up.

And not a word of complaint from him as she hobbled them over to the command console. Would she even get the message through? What of the shield generator? No way to know but that she had to try: and she hit the last sequence of commands. 

_Transmitting._

She met Cassian’s eyes and saw in him that wild hope, that burning despair, and she –- she wanted to look at him for now and for always. Wanted to sear the details of him into her memory. Time, time, she was running out of time, and that was the whisper that might have been the Force, insisting that there was nothing left. Insisting that time was running out.

He was here.

He had come back for her, how had he come back for her, no wonder he was agony all over –- and she whispered apologies as she took the weight of him over her bowed shoulders once again. As she steered him toward the elevator. Nowhere to go. She was not going to die here. She was going to pick a better place for that.

Screech and groan of the elevator as it began to move. Down, and she didn’t fight the urge to reach out for Cassian –- who only looked shocked for a fleeting instant and then he, too, was clutching at her shoulders. He, too, was frantically pulling her close.

She collided with him. His mouth tasted of rust and copper. The rough bristling of the stubble on his cheeks, around his lips. The soft pained sounds that escaped him –- and despite those, he was still kissing her. He nipped none too gently at the corners of her mouth. 

She let herself fall back against the wall so she could haul him closer. So she could take more of his weight. They both smelled of fear-sweat, sour and rank. They both smelled of blood, theirs and not theirs. But he was whining deep in his throat, and she was running her tongue over his teeth, and she was running out of breath. Falling into dizziness, into the bright hot flare of the presence of him –- his body pressing against hers, the dips and planes of muscle in his back, his arms around her waist and hauling her closer, his leg nudging at the juncture of her thighs –-

She pulled away, drew a hard breath, opened her eyes –- to see him staring at her. Pupils blown wide open, dark in his dark eyes. His swollen mouth and the sweat beading in his hairline. She couldn’t help but run a fingertip along his eyebrow, as gently as she could when she was shaking. 

A chime, broken, in the elevator.

It was like a signal, like a reminder, and –- they were going to die out there, she was pretty sure of it, when what little she’d seen of the Rebels’ resistance was already falling to pieces even as she sent out the plans. All she could hope for was that someone on their side would get that transmission and take it to safety. There was nothing more that she needed to do now.

Only him.

Only Cassian.

She touched his lower lip, and he shuddered and said her name, wondering and warm and sweet, and she felt the tears begin to fall from her eyes as she pulled him in once again. Kissing him again, and these were the first and these would be the last. She wanted to remember this. Wanted to remember him. There wasn’t much time left. She kissed him and she took her time. Drank in the quiet sighs and sobs that were falling from his lips. Bitter salt, now, in the taste of him, and she kissed him past the painful hitch in her breath, past the pained hitch in his.

If only there had been more time. If only they’d had another chance.

She said his name, softly, against the warmth of his tongue and the roughness of his mouth, and kissed him, one more time.

One last time.

He whispered something against her mouth as the elevator’s doors opened, as she pulled away from him. “What?”

He said it again: “Podría haberte amado.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

A small, pained smile. “It’s –- it’s not important.”

And she would have protested, if she hadn’t chosen that moment to look out at the sky – at the line where the blue sky met the blue sea.

Looming over that line was something terrible.

She began to weep, even as she began to move forward, as she took the last steps to the beach, with Cassian’s silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

The last few moments –- she fell to her knees, turned to him, held him close even as he clung to her. 

Her last words: “I could have loved you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Come talk to me about Rogue One [@ninemoons42](http://ninemoons42.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> (I got the single line in Spanish from Google Translate, so apologies if it's not exactly right.)


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